


Wolf in the Closet (Let it out so it can breathe)

by Anonymous



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22331509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Well. This was certainly awkward. They hadn't said a word to each other yet, and they already had their clothes off.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68
Collections: Anonymous





	Wolf in the Closet (Let it out so it can breathe)

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy, ladies and gentlemen. Listen while I tell you a tale, of a very sadistic and kinky witch creature, and a different kinky sorceress who doesn't exactly get involved, except not to get involved. Yep. Also known as, A Witcher, a Witch, a Bitchier Witch, and a Bitch. Please do, enjoy!

They were on their way to find a creature that had been killing sheep. The throats of the animals had been shredded, and their blood drained; the hearts, also, were found to be missing. This last was the greater of their worries; while there were those that could drain an animals' blood almost completely, even after such a messy job at their throats, it was pretty rare to find a monster that could remove a sheep's heart without tearing open its chest first. 

"Sorcery of some kind." Geralt had offered, before the bard could ask. Well, that was fairly impressive. Usually Jaskier had his mouth open, words tumbling out almost before they'd set foot near the problem.  
Geralt really must be feeling apologetic, in his way, Jaskier had thought. Well, good, then. 

They had left the haggard, angry farmer to his dead sheep and his regret at mouthing off at his neighbor about stray dogs the days before. A healthy taste of his own sheep-flavoured medicine. 

Now, they rode (Geralt rode) through the damp air and the cold, sleety drizzle, wrapped in their cloaks and shivering against the hard wind (Jaskier was shivering, at least). Evening was passing faster than ever under the cloud-heavy sky, and the water slid down from the sky in inconsistent torrents. 

"Ca-can't we st-stop, Geralt?" Jaskier managed to say through his cold face.  
"No," the witcher tossed back, "the creature has been here recently. Its stench... It remains even now."  
"Only, the rain, you know, Geralt-"  
"Hush!" the witcher barked quietly, in the dawn of a crackle of thunder. "It's near-"  
The thunder boomed for a full second before a shriek pierced the air, rain splattering around it, the Witcher letting forth a low battle cry. A _something_ flapped through the air, heavy wings and flowing hair waving, and Roach reared up in fright or in challenge. Jaskier backed up, very quickly, and made a noise sort of like a whimper as he fumbled for his knife. 

Geralt dismounted, slapped Roach's flank reasonably gently, and drew his swords. The creature dived toward him with a shriek of what sounded like _laughter,_ albeit crazy, terrifying laughter. Oh gods. And it -she- had a woman's face, and _talons on her hands,_ and a massively awful sneer on her human face. Her wings and tail shone dully in the next strike of lightning, and her eyes glinted angrily.  
"So, white wolf," she jeered in her screaming awful bird-voice. "We meet yet again! And you brought a companion!"  
"We have never met." Geralt said harshly.  
"Oh, no?" Shrilled the bird thing, angrily flapping around as the wind blew more steadily, and the rain fell like buckets of water. "And I suppose you'd say differently if your lover wasn't here! Look into my face, Witcher!"  
"Ah, yeah, it's actually not- I mean, I'm his travelling-"  
Geralt snarled, jerked his hand backwards in a, fortunately successful, attempt to shut Jaskier up. "If you were a warrior or someone who hired me, I would remember you. If you were a whore, I wouldn't have fucked you with a bag on your face!"  
She shrieked again, this time in pure rage. "You left me for dead!" She screamed. "In the fortress of Tasag, with the rest of them!"  
Geralt almost halted, as she swooped upward.  
"You were one of the experiments," he said, almost wonderingly, and then "-I made sure all were dead, or brought to a healer."  
"Not this one." She hissed, and clawed at him, coming close to the ground-  
Where Geralt slashed at her, running as he did so, in a beautiful dash with his swords flashing. Ooh, three rhymes. Delightful.  
"I was _buried_ under _rocks,_ " she panted, "for nearly _three days!_ Unable to move them, with my hands not yet healed! Unable to climb out, with my wings buried beneath me! Unable to do anything but _lie there like a wretch!_ And now you _will pay!"_

She rose into the air again, bleeding, now, and raised her clawed hands. Geralt snarled and sheathed his sword in less tine than it would take to blink. "Jaskier! Get down!" He shouted as the bard sputtered. The witcher raised his hand in what must have been a magical symbol, but the witch-bird woman was already chanting:  
"And they shall be like the beasts in their time, lowly in their fervor of their season-" And her hands glowed with red light.  
Geralt's bluish flare was ensconced by a flooding wave of purple which encapsulated the bird-woman; and she screamed and twisted from inside here magical prison, but the red light had already passed from her hands down-  
down-  
-down through the pouring rain, onto the kneeling form and the fully prostrate one below.  
For a moment, they glowed red. 

Yennefer shouted from the hill nearby, and then portaled closer. She waved a hand and the purple prison and its writhing witch inside went golden and held still, lowering somewhat to the ground below. Yennefer knelt next to Geralt, felt his forehead, and swore. The rain continued to pour, and the two figures lay unconscious.

A horse whickered and settled down somewhere dry to wait for its master.


End file.
